The problem with sharing a history

Just how elusive the facts of history can be was demonstrated in a debate this week among scholars gathered at the National Theatre to discuss a newly published official history of Thailand.

There was concern that the official narrative contains premature conclusions about the recent political turmoil and lacks objectivity about older events.

“The History of Thailand”, released two months ago, should not cover the red-yellow political conflict or the last two coups, it was argued, because that chapter of our history is still unfolding. In other words, until the inherent issues are resolved and public opinion coalesces, “the jury is still out”.

Suphawat Kasemsi, a member of a committee charged with revising the book, said it could do without the final chapter on these still-unresolved events. In fact nothing that’s happened in the past 50 years really belongs to “history”, he asserted, since the ramifications continue, and that includes economic and cultural development in the last half-century. 

The contention is well taken, but history need not be “frozen”, or held hostage to the current state of affairs. 

Suphawat was also worried that the authors’ personal opinions might have seeped into the book, leaving them open to not only criticism but also perhaps legal action. On this we agree. The official account cannot be politically tainted. Its authors must be open-minded enough to include the full gamut of existing perspectives, regardless of coded colour.

Moving further back in time, Professor Thanet Aphornsuvan, head of Thammasat University’s Asean studies department, suggested that the official version of Thai history should in fact stem from a joint effort by scholars from all Southeast Asia countries. This would provide a fresh “lens” through which to view the past, he said, and the regional perspective would overcome the tendency of Thai authors to portray our country as being more virtuous than others.

Assessments of which country invaded which always suffer from a nationalistic to-and-fro, but the problem worsens when authors assume a moral high ground that might not be deserved. Honesty is, as always, the best policy, but when patriotism and politics are in play, the truth suffers.

Thanet would also prefer that the book examine the stories of Thailand’s ethnic minorities, such as the descendants of Malay Muslims, the Mon and the Lao who migrated to Thailand. Instead the book short-changes “histories that occurred outside the metropolis”, he said.

Again, is Thailand prepared to be honest? Would accuracy be tolerated in representing the abuses heaped on Lao in the Northeast, and Patani Malays in the far South? To be sure, our official history is far too “Bangkok-centric” in ignoring the people of other regions who are as much Thai as anyone in Bangkok, in spite of different languages and beliefs. 

It should be noted that, just because Lanna and Lao are not taking up arms against the state, it doesn’t mean they’re satisfied with how their stories are presented in Bangkok’s history books. Meanwhile, because a segment of Malay society in the South is armed and rejects the state-constructed narrative, we dismiss them as troublemakers embracing distorted views of history and of Islam. In fact the Malays did not challenge the state until the 1960s, a full half a century after the region came under Bangkok’s direct rule.

If peace is to gain a foothold in the South and prevail elsewhere, we require an understanding of all conflicting narratives. The red shirts cherish their stories just as much as the yellow shirts.

National reconciliation and harmony can only come about with intense and honest debate about the past. The alternative is to continue blaming one another for the problems stifling our nation.